


Smiles

by Satan (CherryBones)



Series: The Land of the LSPD [3]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - GTA, Gen, aaaaay let's add some people, this was literally just an excuse to throw Jon into this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-11
Updated: 2015-08-11
Packaged: 2018-04-14 02:38:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4546980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CherryBones/pseuds/Satan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a crooked reporter on the nightly news.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Smiles

The reporter’s absolutely fucking dirty and Farmahini’s just a _little_  pissed that he never noticed it before. Mostly because it’s not like it matters now. It doesn’t matter if he finds out who’s crooked and who’s not because anyone who works for the Fake AH Crew is part of his team as well and as such he kind of  _can’t do a goddamn thing about it._

Luna thinks it’s hilarious when the realization hits him like a truck. They’re all watching the news, huddled around the ancient wheel-in TV that Demarais found in storage and managed to convince Gibson to help him set up. It’s just after a big heist and a good handful of dirty cops are dead, which it’s probably bad that none of them feel any guilt about it anymore but hey, they were dirty for the wrong team. Luna passes around a bag of popcorn as they watch the newscaster, an old woman with frazzled hair that reminds Farmahini of an electrocuted person in a cartoon, as she deadpans her way through the story and its many collected inaccuracies. And by god there is so many inaccuracies. Luna giggles and shoves another handful of popcorn in his mouth; this is clearly one of his favorite things to do. His laughter ratchets up another few octaves when the camera cuts to another newscaster, this one considerably younger with his long hair yanked back in a bun for the sake of posterity judging by the hasty messiness of it. Said newscaster is rubbing his temples, something that at any other time Farmahini probably would have brushed off as him being stressed or tired if the ‘thank you for that update Louise’ wasn’t absolutely dripping with restrained sarcasm. Like he knew something that the other newscaster didn’t. Mix that with Luna’s childish snickering and it only took a second for his brain to make the connection and for him to let out a vaguely annoyed groan. The laughter gets louder and he throws his handful of popcorn at the offending source.

“Just how many fucking people does Ramsey have under his thumb?”

“I dunno. Half the city maybe? A lot of it’s just protection but some people actually do stuff. Jon’s great for good press, y’know?”

It’s Demarais who perks up with a response.

“Why do you know all these people by their first names?”

He just flashes them that aggravatingly sweet and knowing grin. The same grin he used to give them when he was drawing them into his web one by one. Farmahini’s suddenly pretty sure he knows why.

“I’m chatty.”

Nothing comes out of it for a week or so but then Burns has to call a press conference for something and the fucking reporter is there. His hair is down and he’s got at least three days of weird scruff on his face and if he hadn’t seen him on the news, Farmahini isn’t entirely certain he would have thought the guy was doing anything remotely as professional. He doesn’t ask questions, just stands in the back and watches with a smirk on his face that he’s starting to recognize as a consistent for people either in the Fake AH Crew or working for them. He’s seen it enough on Luna’s face to do that.

And then, of course, when the group of reporters disperses, Luna grabs him by the arm and drags him over to say fucking  _hi_. He’s still glaring at the ever exuberant man when they pull to a stop in front of the reporter and said newscaster laughs.

“I recognize that face. Still pissing off people, huh Miles?”

Miles just flashes him that annoying grin and the guy rolls his eyes and Farmahini’s hit with the sudden sense that he’s in the presence of a kindred spirit, someone who’s equally as aggravated by Luna’s bullshit. He sticks out his hand.

“Brandon Farmahini, I work with Luna.”

The newscaster smiles and takes the hand. His hands speak of callouses more on the level of a gun than a pencil. The smile is full of teeth.

“Jon Risinger. I keep the good talk up. Mostly.” 


End file.
